Why the door handle? This is a picture I took a couple of years ago at Knole Park in Kent, and it's one of my favourites from that day: not grand architecture, not sweeping vistas, not even the deer herd; it's just a common-or-garden old-fashioned door handle, which happens to be to part of the gardens. I love it because you can see its history written all over it. There's rust, uneven and bubbly paint, bits where something was caught in the paint and got painted onto the door as well. It's misshapen, it's hand-made, it's been used for years.
I could possibly make a metaphor at this point, maybe about tradition,
or education, or possibilities, or anything else that crossed my mind.
But I won't - it's just a door. It is solid, functional, and largely
unheeded in daily life, and I found it beautiful, on that day.
That is
all.
